


Take to the Sky

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's not going to say it's a stupid idea, but. It's a stupid idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jason's not going to say it's a stupid idea, but. It's a stupid idea.

He doesn't fit in here, will never fit in here. He's not like Dick, can't fake it the way he can. It's obvious he's nothing like the other kids going to this stupid camp, isn't some kid born to money the way Bruce was, the way these kids were. He's a scruffy street kid who's going to stick out like a sore thumb. 

It's a fucking terrible idea and Jason's said so at least ten times, with little success because Bruce is Bruce. 

"Have fun at camp, Jason!" Bruce - _Brucie_ calls, waving and smiling like an idiot because he loves to torture Jason with Brucie. (Loves to torture _all_ of them with Brucie because he's a bastard like that.)

Jason would roll his eyes, but there's a reason for this particularly bad idea (and really, who thinks it's a great idea to throw Gotham's spoiled rotten rich kids into summer camp and not expect something to happen?), so he smiles and waves back and tries not to grind his teeth.

********

"We thought it would be good to pair the older campers with the younger attendees," the counselor burbles, bright and cheery and getting on Jason's last nerve with her inane chatter. 

(Also, that sounds like yet another terrible idea, have none of these people met a bully in their entire life? Because Gotham's elite are rife with the bastards.)

The counselor - Sherry or Carry, something with an -arry sound in her name leads them to one of the bungalows painstakingly designed to look like rustic mountain cabins. Supposedly they're equipped with “only the necessary amenities,” or so the brochures claim, in order to give the campers a “real camping experience.” 

Except for things like bathtub jacuzzis. God forbid they go without such essential basics.

"Here we go!" she sparkles, looking like a toothpaste ad as she opens the door. "Oh, and it looks like your cabinmate is here already!"

Jason looks around her to where a tiny kid is perched on the bottom bunk looking slightly bewildered, which. Yeah. Jason gets that, this camp is fucking bizarre. No wonder Bruce thought something was up with it. 

(It's not too early to rule out an evil robot army masquerading - badly - as humans, or an invading alien race with the ability to shapeshift, or just run of the mill mind control because no one can be as perky as Sherry – Carry? - is and not be evil in some way.) 

The kid's eyes widen when he looks at Jason, almost scared.

The counselor is completely oblivious, smiling bright and obnoxious. "Hello - " she chirps, pausing to consult her clipboard for the kid's name. " - Timothy! This is Jason, he'll be your cabinmate for the rest of camp! I'm sure the two of you will get along perfectly!"

Timothy smiles weakly. "It's Tim," he says, polite and proper and he hops off the bunk and walks over, hand extended. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jason eyes the kid. Small, scrawny, a little too pale, but his smile is real enough, if a little uncertain. Jason smiles, does his best to look non-threatening. "Nice to meet you too, Tim." 

Tim's smile goes from uncertain to something. Wary, like he's not sure he should be smiling, and Jason. Okay, it's.

The kid's fucking _tiny_. A perfect target for bullies and Gotham's elite are rife with the bastards. But Jason's _Robin_ , he's supposed to look out for people like Tim. Make sure they're protected, safe. Bruce may have a specific reason for sending Jason to the damn summer camp in the first place, but plans change, and there's no way he's going to leave Tim to fend for himself. It's the right thing to do, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The hell is this?" Jason asks, staring at the handful of brochures and pamphlets - Jesus, how many trees died for this place anyway?

Sherry or whatever the counselor's name is left a left a while ago, after simpering at Tim and asking him to “Look after our newest camper, please, Tim, that's a sweetheart.” Like Jason isn't older than Tim by what looks like a decade at least. (Probably not fair on Jason's part, but goddamn, Tim is _tiny_.)

And now. Jason doesn't know what to do with the kid. With Tim. He's all big blue eyes and this nervousness that sets on Jason on edge because he's known kids like that before, and to see it in a kid like Tim. It doesn't sit right with Jason, not one damn bit.

"The hell is this?" Jason asks, staring at the handful of brochures and pamphlets - Jesus, how many trees died for this place anyway? It feels like every time he turns around someone else is there shoving more of the damn things at him. 

Tim fidgets, fingers fluttering nervously as he pulls at the collar of his shirt. "Um." He clears his throat and raises his head, chin up. His eyes go this particular kind of steady and clear Jason's only seen in certain situations. Dealing with someone's charity case at a ridiculously upscale summer camp should not be one them. (Doesn't matter if that isn't how Bruce sees Dick or Jason, it's what everyone else thinks in places like this that does, and Jason is well aware of that.)

"They're the activities the camp offers during the free choice hours." Tim drops his gazed for a moment, tries out a smile. "They take place on alternating days of the week, so you get to pick two."

“Free choice hours,” Jason says, not sure he wants to know who came up with that line of shit.

Tim nods, smile firming around the edges when Jason doesn't shut him down. "Our time is structured here, like school? But we don't get a set schedule until we select the activities we want to take part in.” There's a nervous swallow, Tim's eyes skipping away from his. "Since, uh. Since you enrolled late, they're going to give you another day to choose your electives so they can get your schedule finalized." 

Jason fights the urge to roll his eyes and fails miserably. Bruce had said the enrollment cut-off date had been months ago, all of Gotham's rich fighting to get their kids into the camp in time. And the Brucie rolls on in flashing his money and his name to get Jason in and succeeding because really, who wants to tell a Wayne no in this town - in _any_ town? (No wonder the camp director had looked so damn sour when he introduced himself, eying Jason like he wasn't worth the money Bruce paid to get him a spot in his exclusive rich kid day spa.)

Tim's biting his lips now, making Jason realize he hasn't spoken in a while, long enough to erase any ground he's made trying to convince Tim Jason isn't a complete asshole.

"I guess we kind of made a scene, huh?" Of course they did, Brucie Wayne and charity case number two showing up like they were doing everyone at the camp a favor with their presence alone. 

It was all intentional, of course. Bruce knows everything (or close enough to it that it doesn't matter) and he's had his eye on this stupid camp for a while now. No, he'd planned for a flashy entrance, one more story – scandal - same difference when it came to Bruce. He wanted them to make a splash, knowing it would draw attention to them both, make Jason into a nice, shiny target and Jesus Christ, they're _both_ idiots. 

"Um." Tim laughs, like he hasn't had much reason to, like it's been startled out of him. "Just a little, yeah."

Jason snorts because the damn kid is really kind of amazing with the way he's the king of understatements. Jason has eyes, thanks. He saw the other campers and camp staff trying to catch glimpses of Brucie Wayne and his sad little charity case before the camp director had bustled them off to his office and away from prying eyes.

"So." God the way Tim doesn't quite smile is killing Jason. "Uh. Do you want to see if there's anything you're interested in signing up for?"

Jason holds his hands up and follows Tim when he takes the brightly colored brochures and pamphlets to the small table set up by one of the windows and fans them out like playing cards. "There's archery and horseback riding. Drama, guitar classes, pottery, basket weaving, - "

Jason tunes him out while he goes through the various mind numbing activities the camp offers, stuck watching the subtle twitches and tics that flicker across Tim's face as he talks. 

"Maybe this one?" Tim says, asks, sliding pamphlet towards Jason.

Jason looks down at it, eyebrow lifting. "Woodworking?"

Tim smiles. "It's uh. Well, it's a little more something that you might like?"

Because it lends itself well to menial labor? "What makes you say that?" Jason asks, hiding the sharp edge he can feel starting to poke through. Up until now, Tim's been. Nice for a rich kid. Nervous and uncertain. 

Tim frowns. "Well I mean." He shrugs. "I'm taking it."

And. "What?"

Tim fidgets, runs a hand through his hair, rubs the back of his neck. "It sounds better than pottery, and you get your pick of a project to work on once they cover the basics. The instructor seems pretty nice, not like a lot of the other counselors here,” there's another flicker of emotion on Tim's face, distaste maybe. “The other activities have a set projects they want you to do over the course of the class and in and." Tim shrugs, fingers tapping nervously on the table. 

Jason sighs, gives in to the impulse to lean over and ruffle Tim's hair. Smirks at the startled squawk it gets him. "Woodworking doesn't sound so bad. You know what the projects are?" Jason has a feeling he will.

"Nothing too exciting, just the basics, I guess. Box planter, bird house, or a bat house.” 

And that? That is a goddamned smirk on Tim's face. It could pass for a smile, sure, but something about it makes Jason think not so much.

“A bat house."

Tim nods, looking disarmingly earnest. "My family lives outside of Gotham, so sometimes I see bats flying around the grounds. I'm not sure where they nest for the night, but I thought it would be nice to make a bat house for them."He smiles, back to that sweet big-eyed Disney princess character he so closely resembles. “Why not, right?”

Jason's eyes narrow. There's something in the way Tim's looking at him that's setting off alarms in the back of Jason's mind, but he doesn't know _why_. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Why not.”

Tim gives him another smile and slides the brochure about woodworking off to the side. “The Maybe pile,” Tim says, when Jason looks at him. “Anything else?”

Jason shakes his head, this _kid_ , and turns his attention to the question at hand. There has to be something he can use to get back at Bruce with. Pottery is a good one, Jason's never tried it so odds are good whatever he makes will be some unholy abomination. Knowing Alfred, he'll insist on it having a place of honor somewhere in the manor, possibly even the mantle in the main sitting room where Bruce will have to look at its hideousness on a regular basis. Macrame's another good one, even though Jason would have thought that would go out of style somewhere in the 80s. 

“Um.” 

Jason glances at Tim, who's back to fidgeting. “There's model rocketry, but that's probably full now.” Tim slides a look at him, wary. “But considering who you are, that won't be a problem.”

And, yeah. It's one thing for Bruce to make a target out of Jason (fucking really, what the hell were they thinking with that?), but it's something completely different being an asshole for the hell of it. Model rockets sounds like fun, but Jason has a feeling it's less random explosions and more delicate circuitry and soldering. 

“Not really my thing,” he says, and looks at Tim. “What else did you sign up for?”

And Tim. Tim freezes. “Um.” 

“Tim?”

Nervous little laugh. “I'm. I'm really into photography.” Tiny little smile. “They have a nature photography class.” Twitchy little shrug.

Oh, there's definitely something going on there, but what that is exactly, Jason doesn't know but _really_ wants to find out.

“Er.” Tim is really bad at smiling.

“You think I'd be any good at it?” There's just. Tim is way too twitchy for Jason's peace of mind. 

Tim stares at him. 

“I've never picked up a camera, so.” Jason shrugs. “Might be nice to learn.” And maybe help him figure out what Tim's deal is, because this kid. Something is up with him, no doubt about that.

“I. It's fun,” Tim says, looking down at the table, playing with the pamphlets and brochures. Small smile at the corner of his mouth and a quiet little, “I like it.”

Oh, yeah. Something is definitely going on with Tim.

“Huh,” Jason says, tapping the nature photography brochure. “It'll be something at any rate, yeah?”

Tim looks up at him, something like surprise – cautious, wary – on his face. “I. Yeah, I guess.”

Maybe not the horrible clay bowl or pot to terrorize Bruce with every time he goes into the main sitting room, but. Maybe this can be some not completely terrible picture to hang up somewhere. 

Well, that and wouldn't it be fucking hilarious to have photographic evidence of whatever the hell's going on at this camp using their own damn cameras? (For the record, yes. Yes it would be.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of Jason's first full day at this stupid hell-camp and he hates it with everything he is already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illumynare asked for more of this fic, so. :)?

There are morning assemblies. 

Morning. 

Assemblies.

Jason remembers seeing something about them in one of the stupid brochures or maybe it was a pamphlet? Whatever, he remembers seeing it and wanting to die a little because there's singing and bullshit some two-bit hack came up with that's supposed to be life-affirming and confidence building and just all-over _great_.

It's the start of Jason's first full day at this stupid hell-camp and he hates it with everything he is already. 

“Um,” Tim says. “Are you awake?”

Jason stares at the cabin ceiling and wonders what the poor kid would do if Jason said no. He hears a faint squeaking noise, feels the bunk-bed shift and turns his head to see Tim staring at him, worried little frown on his face.

“I know it's kind of early,” Tim starts, which, wow. Talk about an understatement. “But. They get upset if we don't go?”

Upset.

The sun's not even up, and Jason knows damn well Bruce is still out on patrol in Gotham. Maybe Dick too, if the asshole's managed to stop laughing himself sick at Jason's predicament.

Jason squints at Tim, realizes he's holding on to the edge of the bunk. It's a good bet Tim's standing on tiptoe for his face to be on a level with Jason's the way it is.

“The hell are you doing?” Jason asks. 

Tim tips his head to the side. “Waking you up?”

There's.

Jason closes his eyes and bites back a sigh. He kind of hates the way so much of what Tim says sounds like a question, like he's not sure how whatever he has to say will be received. (Wonders if Tim's like that with everyone, or if Jason's just special that way.)

“When you say 'upset', what does that mean, exactly? They come busting in here and turn the hose on us, or do they tell us they're not angry, just disappointed?”

Tim huffs, dropping back down out of sight. “It means they come find you and,” Jason can hear the shudder in his voice. “They _sing_ at you until you wake up.”

What.

“You really don't want that,” Tim says. “Trust me.”

Jason opens his eyes, rolls over so he can see Tim scrambling to find the stupid lanyard his laminated name-tag is attached to. He looks like a manic squirrel – or, no, not with that hair – manic hedgehog.

“Happened to you, huh.”

Tim looks up at him, something haunted in his expression. 

********

“Oh my God,” Jason says. “Oh my God.”

Tim shifts beside him, hunched down like he's trying to make a smaller target of himself. Given what's happening on the stage, Jason completely understands.

He watches in numb horror as - Carry? Sherry? - drags yet another unwilling victim out of the audience to be part of the skit taking place. Something about making new friends and expanding your mind through learning! Or something like that, Jason's still trying to get over the goddamn furry mascot-things down there. 

Jason's pretty sure one of them is supposed to be a wolf because hey, wolves are totally team oriented, right? The other one is – Jason doesn't know, actually. He doesn't think whatever it's meant to be is Earth-based, but he also doesn't know what planet it's supposed to be from, if any. 

Tim snags his sleeve and tugs, and Jason ducks down behind the kids seated in front of them. 

Loud, obnoxious, and disgustingly rich. _The_ kids at the camp, talking loudly to one another and clearly ignoring everything but their own mindless chatter. 

“We're safe here,” Tim whispers. Pauses. “Safer.”

Jason glances at him, corner of his mouth twitching at the look on Tim's face his face as the counselors scan the bleachers for more victims. 

Every damn time, they skip over this section like they know better than to make these self-important little shits angry or embarrass them, and Tim and Jason are taking full advantage of that.

“Yeah? How long did it take you to figure that out?”

Tim shakes his head and doesn't answer.

********

Out of deference to Jason being new to camp he's been given the day to acclimate. Get his free choice activities and remaining paperwork sorted out in between mandatory events like the morning assembly.

To be honest, this would work perfectly with his plan to scout this place out, get the lay of the land, so to speak, but - 

Jason's going to have to put those plans on hold for a bit, too busy being horrified by the shit these people are pulling. 

“Why - “

Tim looks at him. All his nervousness or shyness or maybe just his inherent Tim-ness taking a back seat to the annoyance on his face as the feathers of the monstrosity on his head flop into his eyes.

“Confidence Cap,” Tim grits out, flicking the neon feathers out of his face. “To build my confidence.”

Jason bites his lip, and wisely keeps his smartass comments to himself because Tim - 

He doesn't look shy of confidence right now, more like quietly seething. 

Vaguely murderous.

“...Is it working?”

(Okay, Jason's wisely keeping _most_ of his smartass comments to himself.)

********

Jason's face aches from all the fake smiling he's been forced to do since he got to this godforsaken camp.

“Okay then!” Sherry burbles – she's wearing her name-tag now – bright and cheerful and oh, God, this is its own form of torture. “Looks like everything's in order!”

Jason smiles, accepts the little metal pins signifying the activities he's signed up for that are meant to be attached to his name-tag. Little identifiers for the counselors to make sure the campers are where they're supposed to be during the free choice hours.

“I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Jason!” Sherry says, like this is a hotel or something, and gives Jason a cheery little wave as she lets herself out of the cabin.

Jason sags the moment the door closes after her, looks to where Tim's sitting on the bottom bunk, headphones on and apparently deep into the book he's reading.

“Hey,” Jason says. “Is she always like that?”

Tim, the little faker, pulls his headphones down around his neck and shrugs. “She's enthusiastic?”

Yes, that.

********

There are evening assemblies too, apparently.

“How the hell can you stand this?”

Jason's only been here for a day and a half and already he wants to get the hell out, whatever means necessary. 

Tim's been here since day one.

Tim shrugs, coiling and uncoiling the string of his hoodie around a finger absently. “You get used to it?”

There's.

Jason looks at Tim, the tired, defeated look in his eyes and wonders if this is part of whatever nefarious scheme is going on here. Beat everyone down with relentless cheerfulness, shitty skits, and horribly implemented and ill-thought out attempts to build confidence and self-esteem until they just give the hell up.

“You poor bastard.”

Tim snorts, flicker of a smile on his lips as he looks up at Jason. 

Jason likes the kid like this, seeing the way he's shed so much of that weird shyness, nervousness over the course of the day. He really hopes Tim doesn't go back being that tiny little wreck Jason met yesterday.

“Give it time,” Tim says, and the flicker of a smile turns into a smirk. “You'll be like the rest of us in a day or two.”

The worst thing is, Jason realizes, staring at Tim, is that he's _right_.

“Like hell,” Jason says weakly. “I'll tunnel out of here if I have to.”

Tim _hmms_ , and turns his attention back to the farce of a skit and Jason, okay.

Jason's going to give Bruce so much shit for this when he gets out of this place. _So much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write more of this.../o\


End file.
